


Hatred and Mercy

by thetruecrystalvixen



Category: Undertale
Genre: Determination, Fallen Down, Flowey is a bastard, Mercy - Freeform, One Shot, Other, Souls, emotional jrpgs, fight, hypothetical guesswork, jrpg play, pacifist run, undertale - Freeform, you 'blank', you are filled with dretermination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16081229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetruecrystalvixen/pseuds/thetruecrystalvixen
Summary: You stand before the king of the Monsters, the last obstacle before your journey's end, you are filled with determination.





	Hatred and Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> A/n -  
> This is how I felt and reacted when I completed Undertale the first time, I had missed helping Alphyse and had the imperfect pacifist ending where everyone (bar Asgore) is alive and remain in the underground to continue on with their lives and call you on your phone.
> 
> Personally, I got so angry with Flowey, because Asgore reminds me so much of my grandfatherRIP, he was a good man and always tried to do what was best; a man of conviction, a worker and maker with his hands, dearly loved his tea, his children and grandchildren. Asgore getting murdered by Flowey reminded me of my own failures, the player can’t stop him in that moment, in his ninth decade, my grandfather descended in dementia, lost who he was and no matter what we tried, and descended into weakness, fear and eventual death (he had to eat a slurry of green paste in the last sixth months of life, which was a well-known sign of imminent death for the retirement village he rested in with my late grandmother).
> 
> I believe watching someone you love, waste away, into weakness and death is one of the cruellest events in the world.

**** Hatred and Mercy ** **

You stood in an abyss, the darkness seemingly endless all around you; the lone semblance of light surrounded a lone figure and yourself, yet only enough to see one another.

You regarded the figure, the yellow shrouded troublemaker with a look, almost passive, if not for the tears dried on your cheeks. Your right hand clutched tightly around the handle of a well-worn knife; it had been used for gardening long ago, true justice that it would be used on a facsimile of a flower. You let out a breath, shifting your hand, the weight of the knife, it was heavy, it filled you with determination.

A greater power fuelled you now, one that had to be quenched, tempered or fuelled as you step onto a path you had avoided for so long.

The knife had never tasted blood, magic, nor dust.

You shook in anger.

The flower, that misdirecting, scheming bastard, he had been playing you for a fool since the beginning.

Flowey!

The name brought a bitter taste to your mouth.

The bitterness shifted as a smile came to your lips, turning into anger. You had never felt so angry before, not when Monster’s attacked you for being Human, being a defenceless child. You, who had fought from the crumbling ruins to find a mother and independence, the frozen battles and friendship of Snowdin, to the muggy bioluminescent swamps where a dedicated warrior hunted you every step you took. You had faced a glittering robot of fame and musical bravado, bombs. You had solved problems, made so many friends and saved lives!

What Flowey had done, you were more than angry, you were furious.

You were determined to live, to see the world above again, feel the sunshine and share the world with your new friends and family. When everything was within grasp, within mere feet of your goal and true freedom, a mere heartbeat away, a new life for all in the underworld of Monster’s. The king of Monster’s was a powerful Monster, a class of his own among the boss Monster’s, every act you took, determined or not, Asgore returned with an attack. Over time, he became weakened out of regret, his wavering Soul, unwilling to fight or listen to his true potential. No options left to you, you fought with all your might, each attack of yours against the king, a blow that you felt chip away at you Soul and self.

The behemoth of a Monster, the mighty warrior and living king of so long ago, who declared war on a people who no longer remembered such reality of Monsters (they were only myths to most, stories to scare and amaze, not fact or truth), knelt before you, on the precipice of accepting whatever outcome you gave him. He asked for your kindness, you could have freedom; he thanked you for not killing his people, his regrets of the lives he had taken in his anger and grief.

You told him that you wouldn’t take his life.

Mercy.

You showed him mercy like everyone else you had met in the underground.

Asgore had given you a weary smile, such joy in his tired and fathomless eyes. He was going to have a family again, you, perhaps his wife would return, your goat mother, and you’d live a life with them. He would bake butterscotch-cinnamon pies with you, brew tea, garden and read together as a family.

Before your lips could curl into a joyous smile, Asgore’s eyes widened a soft grunt from his lips.

He was dust.

All his hopes and dreams were gone, a family that wasn’t meant to be.

That butter yellow flower, he had swooped in, destroying Asgore at his most vulnerable; at his most hopeful.

A cry of loss and rage came from you, you had struggled and fought, you had NEVER killed, you wouldn’t! The Monsters were defending their home, trying to gain freedom from a cruelty set upon them, to be released from a stagnating and stifled world. You had tried to show them all a better way, to be better people and not kill and rip out Souls because you could, there had to be another way.

Flowey had mocked you, belittled you. Told you that you were predictable, he KNEW you would make asinine friendships, that the fat fool of a king would be WEAK when it came to the final blow. The final key for the freedom of his sick, stupid people, the Human Soul that possessed Determination. The twisted Flower had taken a new form when he absorbed the stolen Souls of six Human’s, a mass of mutated horror and twisted nightmares that you were sure were inspired from various forms of media that had fallen into the garbage dump over the several decades, if you had to guess, it was a technological horror of a sci-fi horror with a dash of eldritch inspiration mixed with too much Stephen King.

Determination had filled you, you could feel your Soul, it was being tugged at by the true monster before you. Tears of anger ran down your cheeks, you were NOT going to die at the mutated and morphed hands of an insane and distorted child-God!

Ranted as he attacked, Flowey gloated at how weak and pitiful you were. Over and over he WOULD kill you, false security as he allowed you to think you had won. You were afraid, what if you couldn’t win? No, you had to, you’d give everything to see the sun again, everything for determination to pull you through the insane, overkill of a fight he put you through. You remember dying for a moment, just once, before he brought you back in a moment with something called a ‘load’. Was the overseer of a game? Was everything a game to him?! You panicked, dodging lasers, shooting tendril arms, exploding ‘friendship pellets’, even the flies seemed disturbed as they flew into the maw of a Venus flytrap; seeming rejoicing in their deaths as they battered your Soul around.

So weak and small, you couldn’t fight forever.

That’s when the other lost Souls, the Human’s, they offered help to fight.

Each fought with something familiar…

Every turn you fought Flowey, he got more reckless and rapid, he wanted you dead. The Souls fought with you, weakened Flowey and healed you when you were fortunate enough to grab one of their icons that passed. For one moment, you had believed you had won the fight; that Flowey had lost all his health.

No.

It wasn’t true.

The ‘God’ was playing with you.

Flowey had re-loaded a previous save, over and over from before your hurt and transgression against him. With murderous glee, the twisted basted had destroyed your Soul, laughing at the horror and pain you felt.

You screamed in anger, in fear, you had your victory stolen, within your grasp and slipped away like cupping sand.

With his last reload, Flowey was wrong.

How wonderful that he was wrong.

Your fellow Human’s fought back, striking their newest imprisoner down, flashes of colour washed over Flowey’s disjointed, twisted form, his anger apparent and disbelief reigning; after all, how could these magic-less Human’s be beating him? He controlled them, owned their Souls.

In a flash of light that blinded you, your Soul returned to your body in relief.

That was how you found yourself in an abyss of darkness, the only light with Flowey for company.

You had a choice to make.

If Flowey had his way, he would kill everyone you cared for, everyone you had met in the underground; Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Monsterkid, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton and so many others.

You had to admit Undyne had made things interesting in the long run; she had become your friend and even cooking mentor. A shame her house had become the native habitat for fire. And Mettaton was a bragger and sometimes overly pushy, he had just he needed to be reminded of what he had lost, who he needed to be better, to connect with those who had made it possible for him to be so well known and loved.

Flowey stared at you pitifully.

He was the one who had guided everything into place, he was the one that could have hurt Papyrus, he was the one that wanted this from the beginning, he tried to KILL you when you were lost and alone. It was obvious that Flowey would kill at any chance for his goal to succeed.

He killed Asgore…

Fresh tears ran down your face, you are filled with determination.

Flowey had to die.

He had to.

Flowey had hurt so many.

The knife felt heavier than ever before.

You had only ever used it against Asgore because you had no other option, he wouldn’t listen to your conviction and pleas, at least, not in the beginning.

Against Flowey, this could end this torment and horror.

Determination.

You could do it.

Mercy.

Fight.

He deserved to die, he had hurt so many.

You bit your lip in anger as you shook, you are filled with determination.

Rage blinds you.

Monster!

Your hear pounded in your chest, you had to stop him, make everything right.

He deserved hell for taking Asgore away!

He was good, so good.

Was it his fault for what happened, loss and grief drove him to war.

Fight!

Choose it.

Choose fight, and end this madmonster’s game.

No…

No.

NEVER.

You never wavered.

The anger and rage you feel, this isn’t you. You are better than this.

You had to be better.

Mercy.

Always Mercy.

Your mind never moved over Fight.

You couldn’t.

You wouldn’t.

Even with this horrible, horrible Flower-- once Asrial.

Now he was an amalgamation of so many things; you guessed so much over time, with what you had heard and found on your own, glyphs and ancient writing, through whispers of Monsters.

You are filled with determination.

The knife dropped from your hand, you stepped forward and hugged the pitiful and broken child, you are not an executioner.

Briefly, Flowey- no, Asrial whispers into your ear, there are more things you can do, make the ending better. He is giving you a chance, the only one he can before you find your final ending.

With a heaving heart, you promise to find something better, who could you have you missed in the underground?

Flowey smiles sadly, he says to talk to Alphys, she still needs help.


End file.
